A/N: Yay, another story. Sorrya about the delay for my other stories, but I will make sure to get to working on them soon. Now I have had this stuck in my head for the past month and a half and so decided to finally write it down. So here it is, my new story.

Also. As stated in the summary, there will be Slash, and it will be Harry/Steve. So those thatdont like slash, turn back now.

-Line-Break-

Harry stood in front of the Veil, wondering where his life had gone wrong.

It had been two years since that fateful day, the Battle of Hogwarts, where many lives were lost, all for nothing. Within weeks of defeating Voldemort, Ron had literally dug his own grave when he had declared Harry to be another Dark Lord in training, and how he had known for years that Harry had turned Dark.

Of course, Harry had the gut feeling that he should have known that something like this would have happened. His former best friend had always been a jealous prat, always wanting the limelight that Harry had never wanted. It had been obvious in fourth year when Ron had turned on him after his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. And then, with the comments he had said when they had been hunting for horcruxes before he had left, had left a scar on their friendship that would never heal.

But the Ministry had been in chaos, spy's and unmarked followers of Voldemort still had a heavy influence within the Wizengamot. And so, with the backing of the Ministry, and the Prophet, inciting the public in an uproar, all of them not at Hogwarts during the Battle were now clamoring for his head. And so, it was with those words that Harry and the survivors of Hogwarts fled from Britain in an attempt to live without prosecution.

It was no surprise to Harry that everything had gone to hell in a hand basket. He had unintentionally told the whole of Wizarding Britain that he was the Master of Death when he had won the Elder Wand from Voldemort during their duel. Harry sighed, rubbing his thumb over the now repaired surface of the Resurrection Stone.

At first he hadn't wanted the title, hadn't wanted to be the all-powerful Master of Death. But when he had seen the devastation that Voldemort had caused to England while on his mission to hunt down the horcruxes, he believed that he needed to, if only to defeat Voldemort once and for all. And it didn't help that it had felt right to go after the Hallows, as if fate were guiding him to his destiny.

Of course, he would rather hex Fates ass into oblivion, but that's an entirely other matter.

Using his newly acquired Metamorphmagus powers to hide, courtesy of the Hallows, Harry had been able to live a life of solitude on the Northern shores of France, still close enough to Britain so he could listen to the incoming news, and still out of the way for Britain to do anything, he was living a life of peace for close to two years. Of course, nothing goes the way he would want it to, as the British Ministry had somehow managed to track him down and arrested him.

His surviving friends from the Battle of Hogwarts had launched a daring rescue attempt, which ended with Azkaban Prison being leveled to the ground, Harry, and now Neville, Hermione, Fred and George, were on the run from the Ministry. It had been a surprise to all five of them that they had managed to get this far into the Ministry without anyone finding them at all.

As the only remaining people Harry would call friends crowded around him, he couldn't help but smile. These were the only people who had always been there for him, always helped comfort him when he needed it, and had always provided a helping hand.

Neville he had befriended because the formerly shy boy had reminded him of himself so much. The Longbottom heir, now Lord, had quickly become Harry's first best friend, despite what the traitor Ron Weasley would ever say. The young lord had been nothing but kind to the orphan, and Harry's instinctual efforts to always please those around him had been slowly eroded away as time passed, as Neville had never required anything from Harry, and had always been pleased with Harry for simply being his first friend. They treated each other like brothers, as if they were twins, born a day apart, and would do anything for eachother.

Hermione had been his second friend to make once he had entered the Wizarding World. As they grew up at Hogwarts, he had come to see her as his sister, the one he had always wanted, and the one he had seen standing alongside him in the Mirror of Erised. She was now effectively an orphan, having had obliviated her parents and sending them to Australia when the war had started getting rough. Taking pity on her, when they were in the Forest of Dean after the attack from Nagini, he had offered to do a blood adoption ritual, adopting her into the Potter family as his sister. She had quickly agreed and had done the ritual without a hitch

The Twins were a slightly different story. Harry had been cautious of them first, due to their infamous pranking status, but had been quick to change that when they had avoided pranking him in an effort to know him, not the boy-who-lived. He had endeared them to himself even more upon joining them in their pranking escapades, and even funding their dream joke shop had helped wondrously. He had offered them the blood adoption as well, as he saw them as brothers as well, but they had refused, saying "they didn't need a ritual to tell them that they were brothers."

"I'm going to miss you guys" Harry said, looking around to his only remaining friends.

"We know you will Harry, but do you really have to go?" Fred and George asked simultaneously, making Harry smile sadly. He didn't know when he would see them again, if at all.

"Yes I do" Harry replied. "But I know for a fact that I won't die from going through the veil, to where ever it is it leads."

"How so, Harry?" Neville asked, looking at the veil warily. It had a bad reputation throughout history. "No one's ever come back through before, why will that change now?"

"The Hallows, they… whisper things to me, important information that I should know being the Master of Death" Harry explained quickly, knowing they didn't have much time. "They have already told me that I cannot die, so that's one thing. But they are saying that I am the only one who would survive the trip, and that there is someone on the other side who needs my help. And besides, it would help everyone to lay low if I'm not around."

After he finished his explanation, he dug around in his pocket, and pulled out a small box. Resizing it with a touch of his wand revealed it to be a slim, ebony wood box with the Potter family crest engraved on top. Opening it up, he revealed five pocket watches, two in gold and two in silver, each with engravings and with a slim chain attached, laying in a bed of black silk. He handed Neville one that was made of silver, with an engraving of a tree with gems of orange and yellow embedded representing the leaves in the middle of autumn. He gave Hermione one made of gold, with an engraving of an otter, with brilliant amethysts in the place of the eyes. Harry handed a gold one to Fred and a silver one to George, both with identical engravings of foxes, with brilliant sapphire eyes set in each.

Harry was left with a single pocket watch, made of a mix of gold and silver. It had engravings of a stag with brilliant amethyst eyes, a grim with icy sapphire eyes, a wolf with bright yellow eyes, and a doe, with piercing emeralds in the place of the eyes. The Marauders, the good ones, and his mother, always there by his side.

"I got these commissioned by the goblins in the summer before our sixth year" Harry explained at the gob struck looks on his sister and honorary brother's faces. "I was going to give them to you after we had all graduated, and with how everything turned out, I forgot in all the confusion, and though it would be best to give them out now. If you look on the back, you can see tiny etchings on the surface. I got the goblins to put every possible bit of protection that they could onto it, in an effort to keep us safe. Whatever you do, make sure you keep it on you at all times, even when sleeping. It acts as an emergency portkey, sending you straight to Potter Castle, and if you look on the inside of the watch, on the back of the lid, it has a tiny bit of parchment, through which you can send messages to each other. It is also charmed so that only you can remove it from your person, much like a lordship and heirship ring, and even then, only willingly."

Harry then pulled the chain over his head, letting the watch rest just below his chest, under his shirt and Sirius' old leather jacket. The others did the same, hissing a little in pain when they felt their fingers being pricked, and some blood being drawn out, as the watches heated up, recognizing their owners. They didn't question it though, knowing Harry had done what he had for a reason.

"Now, remember the plan" Harry said, hearing Aurors trying to break down the barricaded and warded door. "Get out of the country, take muggle transportation, and go anywhere that doesn't like Britain. Admittedly, that is everywhere, but go somewhere that isn't Europe, okay?"

The other four nodded, also hearing the Aurors attempts to break down the door. They went around the group, each giving Harry their best and to come back soon. When it got to Hermione, she wrapped him in a hug, tears falling from her eyes as she said "Be safe Harry, and get back soon, okay? I don't want to find out that you got yourself killed. Again."

The four friends stood back, activating their new portkeys, being sent back to Potter Castle, leaving Harry alone in front of the veil. Sighing, he lowered the wards he had put in place on the door, readying himself for what was to come. With a loud bang, the door was blasted off of its hinges, flying across the room to shatter into a million pieces on the far wall. In walked a troop of Aurors, fifteen in total, all trained to the highest standards for these kinds of situations. At the front of the troop, was Ronald Weasley, pure unadulterated hatred and anger splashed across his face. Harry knew this would be easy.

"It took you long enough, didn't it, Weasley?" Harry called from where he was in front of the Veil, standing in the line of site of all sixteen Aurors, wand in hand, yet ready to strike when necessary. He needed one of them to blast him into the Veil, so they would believe he was dead. It was a clear guess that the first shot would be Weasley. He had always had a trigger finger. "Maybe you should have gotten that slut of a sister to come with you. We all know how easily she can track me down."

"Don't you dare insult my sister" Weasley bellowed, pointing his wand at Harry, the tip glowing a crimson red. "You were meant to marry her, then leave all of your fortune to her and die, like a good little boy. We were finally going to be rich and famous, Potter, rich and famous thanks to your death. But of course, the old goat Dumbledore just had to let you get your lordships, didn't he. Suddenly, all of our hard work to get you to be an innocent, naïve little boy, willing to do anything for a woman who looked like his mother had crumbled. But this was the only way for everything to be perfect."

"Don't you ever dare insult my grandfather, you fucking bastard" Harry snarled, making the troop of Aurors step back in fear. Weasley was either too stupid or too angry to notice. Quite possibly both Harry thought. "You were never as great as you said you were, Weasley. And your plans were pathetic. I am glad that Grandpa Albus let me get my Lordships when I did, and allowed me to become the man I am today. I think this is the last time we shall see each other, Weasley, so I bid you good day."

Harry had raised his wand during his speech, and incanted "Bombarda" at the wall above the door the Aurors had come in from. As soon as the electric blue spell had left his wand, he lowered it to the group of Aurors and chanted "Concusso", blasting them multiple times with blasts of air from his wand. All the Aurors were sprawled on the ground, all except for Weasley, who sent a cutting curse to his arm, and a blasting hex to his chest. Harry holstered his wand in an instant, allowing the spells to hit him, hissing in pain as the cutting curse cut deeper than he had thought Weasley was possible of. He felt his body leave the solid surface of the ground, as it flew through the air into the icy coolness of the veil.

For what felt like an eternity, Harry fell, seeing everything and nothing at once. Colours flashed passed past him, every colour imaginable, every colour on the visual spectrum, and every colour on all the others. Colours beyond explanation, colours beyond comprehension. His senses were assaulted from all sides, strange smell, weird noises, horrible, yet at the same time delicious, tastes, the gentle caress of a lover, the throbbing pain of a beating on his skin, and within the colours, his sight was assaulted with images throughout history, seemingly going backwards in time.

He saw events in his own life in reverse, the final duel with Voldemort, Dumbledore falling up the side of the astronomy tower, rather than down when Snape had killed him. He saw Sirius walk out of the Veil, Voldemort returning to the cauldron his body had come out of, Quirrels body reforming from stone, his mother jumping up in front of him as Voldemort walked backwards out of his room.

He saw other events, Pettigrew's betrayal of the Potters, the street he had blown up reforming as the blasting spell had returned to his wand. He saw the Marauders frolicking on the full moon, watching Moony's transformation in reverse. He saw two men shoot JFK, the bullets whizzing back from the president to the shooters, seen clear as day to Harry, the one thy accused, and one with dark, brown eyes and long, shoulder length black hair, with a metal arm in the place of his left arm, his face covered by a mask. He saw the explosions at Nagasaki and Hiroshima in reverse the atrocities caused by the Nazis, the terror instilled by Grindelwald and his blood purists.

He saw everything flash before his eyes, almost begging the influx of images to stop when he was shot out of the Veil and deposited with a loud bang on top of someone's coffee table, which promptly collapsed due to the force of the fall. He heard someone moving before he groaned in pain and blackness took over his vision.

-Line-Break-

Steve Rogers had been looking forward all day to finally being able to relax and read a book, or sketch some drawings he had been wanting to do for a while. He had had to go to work, despite the fact that his Asthma had been playing up badly due to the cold, and Bucky had decided that today was the day for another round of drinking games down at the pub. He always wondered where that man could get money for alcohol, while he sat here in their apartment freezing his ass off because they had no wood for the fire.

The moment he had walked in the door of the apartment, he had grabbed a pile of blankets and curled up on the couch, reading his favourite copy of The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe. He tried as hard as he could to have as little bare flesh out to the open air, made harder when trying to hold his book open to read. He had gotten half way through his favourite tale, The Tell Tale Heart, when his attention was pulled from his book with an almighty bang.

Looking up to the roof, for surely that had been where the noise had come from, right before him a man appeared out of thin air, the shadows seeming to move towards a point, coalescing into the solid form of a boy, no older than seventeen with wild, midnight black hair and pale, snow white skin, the room seeming to heat up at his presence. With a flash of bright white light, and another bang, he fell onto Steve's coffee table with a crash, the force of the fall making the table collapse. The boy groaned in pain before he went quiet, his breathing surprisingly even despite the fall.

Steve could only stare at the boy, shocked that what had happened, his mind trying to comprehend what had happened. As his eyes roamed over the boy's body, he quickly spotted a large, heavily bleeding gash on his arm, oozing blood on the remains of his coffee table. Getting over his shock quickly, Steve threw the blankets on top of him off, pulling off his belt to wrap around the arm, just above the wound to stem the blood flow. He pulled the raven haired boy onto the couch, being careful to keep the bloody wound off the material. He quickly ran to the bathroom, pulling out the First Aid kit, and running back into the lounge room to get to work.

He quickly pulled out bandages, medicinal alcohol, a needle and thread, and grabbed a bowl from the kitchen to pour the alcohol into, along with some matches. Placing the bandages into the bowl, and pouring the alcohol in with them, Steve quickly got to work cleaning the wound in an effort to keep away infection. He dipped the needle, already threaded, into the alcohol and struck a match, pulling the needle over the flame, the left over alcohol catching fire and quickly going out, sterilizing the needle. He knew personally what problems infections could cause from un-sterilized equipment.

Cleaning the wound of as much blood as possible, Steve quickly go to work sewing the wound shut, making sure to keep the wound clean and sterile as he went along. Finishing up, he cut the thread off as close to the wound as he could get, washing the area with some more alcohol. He placed gauze over the wound, wrapping it in bandages and securing it as tightly as he possibly could, removing the belt from above the wound as he did so.

As he was packing up the first aid kit, he felt his chest tighten and his breaths became more and more laboured as he went. Come on Steve he thought to himself deep breathes. Calm down, deep breathes, and this will be all over.

He kept trying to take deeper breaths but all he could do was panic, not noticing the boy on the couch groan as he woke. Oh god, I'm going to die was the last thought that went through his mind as something was placed to his lips, a cold, bitter liquid passing down his throat and a hazy fog passed over his mind. The last thing he saw was emerald green eyes filled with concern and worry before his eyes closed of their own accord and he was embraced by the darkness of sleep.